Of Lapels and Buckled Shoes
by Haikoui
Summary: Elizabeth gets locked for a small while in Norrington's office while waiting for her father to finish a meeting with said captain. One-shot. Young!Elizabeth fic. Slight pre-Norribeth fluff, nothing creepy.


**Title: **Of Lapels and Buckled Shoes

**Author: **Haikoui

**Word count: **3,625 words

**Disclaimer: **Pirates of the Caribbean does not belong to me and neither does its characters. God, if it did… oh, James, my _baby. _;_;

**Summary: **Elizabeth gets locked in Norrington's office while waiting for her father to finish a meeting with said captain. Young!Elizabeth fic. Norribeth fluff, nothing too creepy.

**Notes: **My first PotC fic! This was actually so much fun to write. Thank you for reading and be sure to leave a review at the end.

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**Of Lapels and Buckled Shoes**

"_What a glorious time in which_

_To feel a love so grand that_

_Your heart may contend with;_

_But a time for greater than_

_Glorious is when love is discovered_

_But completely unnoticed."_

"Elizabeth!"

_Oh, for the love of – _Elizabeth hurriedly attempted to pull out her most beloved bracelet from her stuck drawer, to no such avail; the handle broke off, and Elizabeth groaned, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration and blowing air from her mouth, panting.

"Elizabeth, please!" said her father, much closer now—she suspected he was approaching the door. "We are going to be late and you _know_ we musn't be late to this dinner we've been planning for such a long time."

Glaring at her wardrobe as though she were prepared to set it completely on fire, she uncrossed her arms and, huffing, stomped to the door and whipped it open.

Her father looked absolutely mortified at her expression. "Why, what on earth has got you so despaired, my dear?"

The thirteen year old looked at her father with a pout. "I can't get my bracelet out of my wardrobe – the handle's fallen off again and the bloody drawer's stuck! I was hoping to wear it today…"

Weatherby peered around his daughter into her room. The accused handle was lying innocently on the hardwood. Turning back to Elizabeth, he laid a hand on her shoulder and guided her out of her chambers.

"Now, Elizabeth," he said in an attempt to cheer up his only daughter. "Don't let it get to you. I'm sure you can get a new one if that wardrobe doesn't let up."

"I oughta bust it open!" came Elizabeth's retort.

"Well," said Weatherby knowingly, "I suppose that would work. But let's save that for… a sturdier pair of hands."

The response was another exasperated huff.

"Wasn't that the bracelet the captain gave to you on your thirteenth birthday, Elizabeth?" inquired Weatherby.

She nodded, looking more and more distraught, and less and less angry with each passing second. "James will be so angry!" she wailed.

"_Captain Norrington," _Weatherby corrected as they descended the stairs to the front door, where all the servants waited patiently. "Not James. And I am also certain that he will understand your predicament."

"Well," said Elizabeth slowly as Mary moved forward and helped her into her poncho for the pouring rain outside, "I suppose, if he's gracious enough – oh, father, do I _really _have to come along with you?"

"Elizabeth, it would be utterly _rude _not to!"

Elizabeth looked disheartened by her father's words, but she stood silently as his own poncho was put around his shoulders.

"Safe trip, sir," said Mary.

"Thank you, Mary, and we will be back later tonight, God willing," said Weatherby. "Please be sure Elizabeth's nightgown is ready."

"Yes, sir."

As the governor and his daughter walked out to the carriage waiting for them in the pelting rain (of course, they had umbrellas over their heads), Weatherby saw Elizabeth look back despairingly to whom he supposed was Mary watching from the front door.

When they were settled comfortably in the carriage, the governor looked at Elizabeth, who was staring grumpily out the window. Perplexed, he questioned, "What's it about Captain Norrington that so displeases you today?"

"It's not J – er – Captain Norrington… with whom I'm upset," Elizabeth said. She sighed. "I just wish I'd gotten my bracelet. I really wouldn't want him to get frustrated with me." _Since when did James get frustrated? _said a voice snidely in Elizabeth's head.

Her father nodded thoughtfully. "It's a shame, yes, but – " And here he pursed his lips, his eyes wide, "You must know by now that Captain Norrington does not get so controlled by his feelings."

_No, he doesn't, _agreed Elizabeth, thinking of all the dinners with him where he had talked blandly of foreign affairs in Florida, of which Elizabeth could not frankly care less about. But, her father often reminded her –

"It's his birthday, you know," said Weatherby.

– of James's – Captain Norrington's – birthday. That was the main reason Elizabeth had longed to wear her bracelet, but that _damned_ wardrobe…

"Yes, I know," said Elizabeth. Her father seemed to inflate with pride that she paid attention.

It took another quarter of an hour or so to reach Captain Norrington's house, which was modest compared to her father's, but still grander than many others. Nonetheless, Elizabeth liked it quite a bit, though she had only seen the outside, the foyer, the dining room, and the lounge.

The carriage stumbled onto the gravel in front of the small gate and one of the maids hastened forward in the rain with two umbrellas.

"Welcome, Governor Swann!" said the head of servantry. "Lovely weather, isn't it?"

"Gorgeous," said Weatherby fondly. Beside him, Elizabeth scowled.

They led both Elizabeth and her father into the foyer where – _lo and behold! _thought Elizabeth – there was Captain Norrington.

"Governor Swann," said the captain graciously, nodding.

"Hello, captain!" said Weatherby.

"Miss Swann," continued Captain Norrington.

"Captain," she replied, looking at her feet.

There was a moment of silence before her father said, "Oh, Elizabeth, where are your manners?"

She gathered her skirt and curtsied, still keeping her eyes on the floor and her wrist hidden from view.

"Elizabeth," said Weatherby warningly.

She looked up at the captain, who gave her a nod. Elizabeth wished he would smile – anything, even a quirk of his lips – but so far, he stood straight and rigid, just as he was supposed to. How she wished Will were here to rid her of all this foreshadowed boredom…

"Forgive my daughter, Captain," said her father. "She's had quite a predicament earlier."

"I'm sure it's nothing too great to fret over," said Norrington.

She looked at her shoes again, before hiding her hands innocently behind her back to hide the lack of the bracelet. Looking up again, she saw Norrington's eyes on her, guarded.

"What's the matter, Miss Swann?" he asked.

"I lost your bracelet," she blurted.

For a split second, there was a flash of confusion in his eyes, before he said, "Oh. Your birthday bracelet?"

She nodded, bringing her hands back to her front.

"She didn't _lose_ it," said her father. "Her drawer was stuck and she was having an absolute fit because the blasted thing wouldn't open – she was going to wear it tonight. Poor thing."

"Well," said Norrington, "no need, really. Miss Swann, if it is any consolation, I can have someone get the bracelet out for you tomorrow before I leave."

Right. He was leaving for Santo Domingo.

And suddenly, she felt much better.

"Shall we adjourn to the dining room, then?" said Weatherby.

They walked to the dining room as Weatherby made generous remarks on Norrington's interior décor – Elizabeth didn't like it much, but she was much more interested in colors than beige and white and grey, anyway.

"Remind me again," said Weatherby as they sat, "why is it you've insisted on no gathering for your birthday."

"I don't fancy the idea of a large celebration for an old man as myself," Norrington said calmly.

"Old?" Weatherby scoffed. "If you're the definition of an aged man, I must simply be skeletal." He chuckled, and Elizabeth used that time to observe Norrington – he didn't look old, per se. Well, he had done away with his brown hair a while back for one of those _horrid_ powdered wigs, and Elizabeth had to admit that the bloody thing piled ten years on his image. But otherwise, there really wasn't a hint of a wrinkle on his face and Elizabeth could see he had broad, strong shoulders that identified a naval officer from the rest of the crowd – her father certainly lacked those qualities.

Dinner passed uneventfully, with Elizabeth's father questioning Norrington on many of the preparations needed for tomorrow's departure; in return, the captain made inquiries on foreign affairs, especially regarding trade with the colonies up on the east coast of North America. Elizabeth was thoroughly bored by all of this within minutes of it, but all she was allowed to do – _blasted propriety –_ was wait as Norrington and her father finished their food.

And it was a while longer until her father wiped his chin and smiled, satisfied, at her and the captain across from him. "Now – shall we move to the lounge for a smoke?"

Norrington nodded and said, "I'll get you a pipe."

"No need," said Weatherby proudly. "I've brought my own. It's a gift imported from Florida, I'm proud to say." He paused, rising from the seat, and then added, "Are you sure you won't have a little puff either, captain?"

"It isn't quite to my taste, but I'll speak with you – "

Here, Weatherby looked at Elizabeth as Norrington spoke.

" – regarding some naval business."

Weatherby shot another pointed look at Elizabeth. "I suppose Elizabeth will have to remain here?"

"How delightful," Elizabeth commented.

"Well," said Norrington, but his mouth seemed tense, as though he were going to smile at her caustic tone, "it would be best if she didn't hear of it."

"I feel perfectly old enough," said Elizabeth, in her own defense.

"Thirteen years is hardly old enough for military matters, dear," said her father patiently.

Elizabeth frowned. "Yet old enough to begin thinking about suitors in five years' time."

Norrington coughed. Elizabeth paid him no mind.

"That's hardly the same," said Weatherby. "Stay here and wait for us to finish."

"That's hardly necessary – she's free to move around the house," said Norrington, looking somewhat surprised.

"No, no, no, she should stay here. Elizabeth, occupy yourself in this room only." Weatherby stopped, then turned to the captain. "Shall we go?"

They left Elizabeth to her own devices, and she sat sullenly for a long moment as maids came and gathered the leftover plates from the dinner table. She could hear them working in the kitchens and, groaning slightly, she pursed her lips and pushed herself off of her chair.

She was going to go _mad._

James – _Norrington,_ said that damned voice – had said she could explore. Hadn't he? Well, propriety be damned! Elizabeth strode out of the dining room to the foyer since she wasn't allowed in the lounge and decided that she was going to find something of use to her in this house.

But, as time passed, she found (to her utter dismay) that every room looked the same and each wall was colored the same bland white. White, white, white, just like that wig. She pushed open another door, exhaled in frustration, and shut it, taking care not to make a resounding thud.

Elizabeth walked down the hall, noting the direction from which she came, and was reaching another room that she prayed was slightly more interesting than the previous ones, especially since this was at the end of the hall.

She looked at the door, which had a brass plate on the front of it, reading:

_Captain James Norrington_

It looked as if he had an office to work in, such as back at the navy offices. Curiosity got the better of her and she pushed the door open, nearly tripping on a door stop on the way in –

– and immediately, she was bombarded with paintings.

At first, Elizabeth wondered if he's painted them, but he hadn't. The door to the office clicked behind her softly, but she didn't notice it – she moved forward and touched one cautiously, as though afraid of breaking through the canvas.

If she could have guessed anything about the captain's personality, she would not have figured he enjoyed paintings. He was always surrounded by water, by glorious scenery from the Caribbean.

And, as her eyes moved around the room, she spotted the most surprising thing of all among the piles of paper in the office: an upright piano.

It wasn't marvelously large, nor very polished – in fact, as she pressed a key down and listened to the note reverberate in the office, she learned that it wasn't very in tune, either. But Elizabeth couldn't help smile at this discovery.

When she was younger, she had always thought James fascinating, but the older she got, the constant talk between him and her father about naval affairs simply became boring, and James became the epitome of a dedicated naval officer who lived to work.

But, as Elizabeth stepped back from the piano, she wondered if she should reevaluate her perception of him.

Elizabeth turned to the door to leave, twisting the handle to open it.

It didn't budge.

She stared at it for a moment before twisting it again.

It remained stubborn, unmoving.

"Oh, you _rotten_ slab of wood," snarled Elizabeth, shaking the handle, infuriated. The door remained shut and she moaned, letting go of the handle and nearly tripping on the same doorstop as she moved away.

_Wonderful, _she thought miserably. _I'm stuck in this bloody room. His personal office. Well done._

She looked around again. It didn't seem too bad of a room to be locked in, and if she had had a choice of any room in the house, it would have been this one.

If her father were here, he would have told her it was rude to go through other people's things, _especially _someone like James. _Captain Norrington,_ corrected a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her father.

At any rate, it seemed like she was going to be stuck in the office for a while. She was certain that if she played the piano, she would severely disturb the meeting between her father and James down in the lounge, and it wasn't as if she was talented at it, anyway. So she settled for shuffling through paperwork littered on his desk – surprisingly, this desk was not nearly as organized as the one she'd visited so often at his office in the naval headquarters – and read through some that piqued her interest. Some mentioned trade affairs with the Spanish in Florida, as well as the French in the infamous port of Tortuga, where she'd heard lived off of a ridiculous amount of liquor, and liquor only.

Some of the paperwork dealt with tariffs on goods imported from Britain – she wondered at this fact, since she was certain Port Royal was the subject of the crown and the fact that it was being taxed for goods from its own mother country seemed to be slightly absurd.

And yet, some dealt with – she felt her heart thud – pirates.

Her father had always wondered about her fascination with what he called the "foul, black-toothed creatures who dared lay foot on the British soil they'd betrayed," but that made them all the more fascinating to Elizabeth. To simply give one's life up and to live on his or her own… to her, that took nerve and a grand amount of gusto. Elizabeth would have liked to think that she had that much courage within her to set off on a fantastical adventure, but as the governor's daughter, she had expectations set on her shoulders to remain right where she was.

She kept sifting through the paperwork, and no such sheet like the one she'd seen earlier about pirates came up. Either the navy hadn't had many issues lately with pirates, or James hated them so much that he passed it on to someone else – but he didn't seem like one to back down from an opportunity to catch pirates. The word itself typically drew a miniscule sneer on his normally cool visage.

Nearing the bottom of the stack, she wondered if she would reach anything interesting at all (because if she didn't, she'd have to resort to the piano, and what an earful she'd get from her father then!) when she saw her name.

Her name.

And her father's handwriting.

Well, of course, she was used to her father writing to James all the time. He always spoke of how James – _Captain Norrington – _was so talented and how he was one of the best, if not the best, prestigious naval officers he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. But her father had been writing to him fairly constantly nowadays, and curiosity gnawed at her fingertips. She pulled out the letter and sat on his plush, leather chair, puffing her cheeks as she read.

_Dear Captain Norrington,_

_ I am very excited to hear about your newest expedition to Santo Domingo. _

Oh. Well, she didn't care much about that – she'd already heard enough about it over dinner. She skipped forward.

_I wanted to express my gratitude in your appearance at Elizabeth's 13__th__ birthday ball, as well. She adores your gift, you know, and I must say that it is a gift that suits her greatly. _

_On the subject of Elizabeth, Captain, I wish to discuss with you plans for her future. She is my daughter, after all, and though she is very headstrong, I believe she has a strong respect for you and admires you very much. Therefore, though this is quite a while away, I must ask you if you are willing to court her once she turns eighteen._

Elizabeth read _that_ line several times, attempting to digest the information, before putting the letter down on the desk and staring at it.

Court her.

Her father wanted James – _Captain James Norrington – _to _court _her.

Granted, it would be a while from now. She had yet to turn fourteen. But she'd always thought she would – well, she'd always thought she'd grow up and marry Will. He was her age, so in that matter, it made sense to marry Will. But maybe that only made sense to her. Women always married men over their age here anyway. How old was James? Thirty? Was he truly that old, or was she overshooting because of that blasted powdered white wig?

Or maybe it was Will's enthusiasm for everything he did – he matched her passion so perfectly that she could almost swear they were from the same mother. _That _didn't sound particularly romantic, but it was the only way she knew how to describe it.

But… James? Courting her?

_It could be worse,_ thought Elizabeth. _It could have been Lieutenant Colonel Roger Jennings, and he doesn't know his left hand from his right hand. Or it could have been Harold Pinckney, that short man who always snorts when he laughs._

Would it be so bad to be married to James?

She looked around the room. If every room seemed as lively and spontaneous as this one, she supposed she'd be alright.

The door opened suddenly, and the very face she'd been thinking about appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

"Here you are," said James (_Norrington, you stupid girl! _said that voice irately). "I was beginning to think you'd gotten stuck in a cupboard." He paused, then added, "But you being who you are, I don't really think you'd have minded the rats, now, would you?"

He gave her a smile. Elizabeth looked him over again, as best she could with her young, thirteen-year-old eyes. Had he joked, just now?

_A short drop and a sudden stop._

No. He'd joked frequently with her but she'd been otherwise preoccupied to notice.

"Well, come on then," said Norrington. "Your father's waiting downstairs."

She got up from the chair and walked to the doorway as he propped the doorstop under the door. Well, that would have solved the whole 'locked in the office' situation. She could have smacked herself right then and there.

He escorted her down the stairs to her father, who was waiting anxiously in the foyer with the maids. "Elizabeth, I told you to stay where you were! Don't go exploring like that again."

"Really, Governor," said Norrington. "It was no harm."

Weatherby huffed before taking Elizabeth's hand. "You could have waited for us. Our meeting took twenty minutes at the most, dear. Where on earth did you run off to?"

"In my office," Norrington answered as she folded her other arm across her chest. "The door's lock is faulty, so she was stuck."

There was a flash of lightning outside and Elizabeth jumped; she'd forgotten it was raining and, now that it was dark outside, she wondered how safely she and her father would get home. Norrington seemed to understand her predicament somehow and said, "Are you certain you will be able to get home safely?"

"Oh, it'll be no trouble," said Weatherby, looking outside a second later and swallowing.

The captain didn't look like he believed him, but he didn't say anything more. Instead, turned his eyes on Elizabeth again and said, "Let me know if you get that bracelet back."

She nodded, watching as he pulled on his lapels to straighten them before smiling at her and her father. "Safe trip home, Governor Swann, Miss Swann," said Norrington, angling his head downward at them in acknowledgment. "I enjoyed our conversation, Governor."

"It was enlightening, yes." Weatherby paused before taking Elizabeth's hand, ready to head home. "And to you, Captain – safe trip to Santo Domingo tomorrow."

"We pray for the best," added Elizabeth, before clamping her mouth shut and wondering why on earth she had felt the need to speak. Yet Norrington looked thankful for her words, and he said, "Yes, I expect they will keep my future bright, Miss Swann."

And they bid farewell as Norrington left to prepare for the next day and Elizabeth and her father headed home in the rain while sitting in a sopping carriage. Elizabeth could still remember the sight of his lapels and his polished shoes, his paintings and his piano, his signature on all those papers – she wondered why, if any reason at all, she couldn't seem to bring to mind Will's small quirks at all.

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**Thank you for accepting me into your fandom 3 I hope you enjoyed it. I apologize if they're out of character.**

**Review please!**


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